


Fool's Gold

by skywalkersamidala



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 11:49:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18468361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkersamidala/pseuds/skywalkersamidala
Summary: Francesco starts dating Lorenzo purely out of a desire to use him to dig up dirt on the Medici bank. But he doesn't count on his heart getting involved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story arc really merited like a 50k slowburn but I don't have that kind of time, so it's probably gonna feel rushed in places but i Just don't care lmaoo also a quick note that in this AU Lorenzo and Francesco aren't childhood friends and in fact have never met before. which will become VERY clear once you start reading haha but I just thought I'd put it here too. And finally, you can as usual expect extremely vague descriptions about the goings-on of banks because I don't know what I'm talking about

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” Lorenzo grumbled.

Giuliano clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, it’s been ages since we had a night out! It’ll be fun.”

“Couldn’t we have done this tomorrow night instead? Who goes out drinking on a Thursday night?”

“Everyone. Thursday night is the new Friday night.”

Indeed, the bar _was_ a lot more crowded than Lorenzo might have expected for a weeknight. “I’ll stay for two drinks. But that’s it,” he said. “We have that meeting in the morning, remember.”

“You mean, _Mom_ has a meeting,” Giuliano said. “We’re just there for moral support. You know she doesn’t trust us with any _real_ responsibilities yet.”

“She doesn’t trust _you,_ maybe, but she keeps hinting to me that she’d really like to retire soon and have me take over,” Lorenzo said. “Anyway, I’m sure Jacopo Pazzi will be unpleasant enough to deal with even without a hangover, so try not to drink _too_ much, all right?”

Giuliano waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Oh, there’s Simonetta.”

And he vanished into the crowd, leaving Lorenzo alone. Sighing, Lorenzo made his way to the bar and ordered a drink. Giuliano and Simonetta came over to chat for a while, but by the time Lorenzo had moved onto his second drink, they’d left again. Probably to have sex in the bathroom or something, Lorenzo thought, shaking his head, as he took another sip.

His eyes wandered around the room, looking for someone else he might know whom he could talk to. No familiar faces, but after a few minutes, a man sitting at the other end of the bar caught Lorenzo’s attention. He seemed to be by himself, and Lorenzo watched him pick up his drink and take a sip, looking supremely uninterested in any of the people around him.

Lorenzo kept watching him, knowing he was staring but unable to help it. The man had the most fascinating face he’d ever seen. All harsh angles and jutting cheekbones, to the point where it should have been unattractive…yet it was somehow inexplicably beautiful. Lorenzo had never seen a face like this before.

On some probably stupid instinct, he stood up and made his way over to the man, taking a seat on the empty barstool beside him as casually as he could manage. “Hey,” he said.

The man barely spared him a glance. “What do you want?”

This would be the right time for a smooth pickup line, but Lorenzo’s charm suddenly failed him and all he could think to say was, “Can I buy you a drink?” How very original.

Now the man did look at him, but only to raise his eyebrows. “Already got one,” he said, lifting his glass.

“Oh. Yeah,” Lorenzo said lamely, starting to stand back up. “Never mind, sorry, I’ll just go.”

“I didn’t say you had to go. Just that I already have a drink.”

Lorenzo paused, then sat down again. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t want to bother you…”

“Yes, you did. You came over here with the specific intention of bothering me,” the man said, looking faintly amused. “But lucky for you, I’m in the mood to be bothered right now. Surprisingly enough.”

Lorenzo smiled too. “That’s good, I guess. I’m Lorenzo, by the way.”

“Francesco.”

“Nice to meet you, Francesco. So…what do you do?”

“I work at a bank.”

“Oh, me too. Which—?”

“Did you really come over here to discuss banking with me?” Francesco said. “Because I’m here tonight to get _away_ from all that for a while.”

Lorenzo laughed. “Fair enough. We’ll talk about something else, then.”

Francesco drained the rest of his drink and put the empty glass back down on the bar. “We could. Or we could just cut to the chase and go back to your place,” he said bluntly, smirking when that made Lorenzo splutter in surprise. “That _is_ what you came over here for, isn’t it?”

“Well…yeah,” Lorenzo said. “I just figured we’d work up to that, get to know each other first.”

“What’s the point of that? We’re having a one-night stand, not getting married. We don’t need to know each other,” Francesco said. He stood up and looked at him. “Coming or not?”

Lorenzo hastened to follow him out the door.

He brought Francesco to his apartment, a small but expensive one near the center of Florence. “Nice place,” Francesco said, looking around as Lorenzo shut the door behind them.

“Thanks,” Lorenzo said.

“Business must be good for you right now.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about business.”

That almost made Francesco smile. “Touché.”

Lorenzo moved closer to him, and for a moment they just looked at each other. Then Lorenzo was leaning forward and kissing him, and Francesco was kissing him back and sliding his arms around his waist. Lorenzo tangled his hands in his hair and deepened the kiss, making Francesco moan softly into his mouth.

Francesco started nudging him backwards until he bumped into the sofa and practically fell onto it. “I have a bed, you know,” Lorenzo said, closing his eyes and gasping as Francesco settled himself on his lap and started sucking on his neck.

“We’ll get there eventually,” Francesco said, and Lorenzo laughed. “Now, that’s enough talking.”

Lorenzo couldn’t agree more.

* * *

When Lorenzo’s alarm went off the next morning, he considered throwing his phone against the wall and going back to sleep for at least three more hours. Then with a jolt he remembered the meeting. He grabbed his phone and checked the time, sighing in relief when he saw that he still had plenty of time before he had to be at the bank.

“Sorry for waking you up so early,” he said. “I have to be at work in…”

He trailed off as he realized that the space beside him in bed was empty. Heart sinking, Lorenzo got out of bed and pulled some pants on before wandering out into the living room. But there was no sign of Francesco, and his clothes were gone from the floor too. Lorenzo sighed and started getting ready for work, trying to forget about it. After all, Francesco had been very clear that it was only a one-night stand and Lorenzo had agreed.

But that was _before_ he’d had possibly the best sex of his life, Lorenzo thought mournfully while he was in the shower. And Francesco had seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself too; surely he would’ve been at least a _little_ interested in seeing Lorenzo again if he had asked. But Lorenzo hadn’t thought to do so. He hadn’t even gotten his phone number, or a last name, or anything that would allow him to track him down again.

Even though Lorenzo had woken up with plenty of time to spare, he sulked and dawdled so much getting ready that he nearly was late in the end—which he realized when he got to work and _Giuliano_ was already there. _“There_ you are,” Lucrezia said exasperatedly. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten.”

“Sorry,” Lorenzo said, sliding into the seat beside her at the conference table. “I overslept.”

“Eventful night?” Giuliano asked, smirking at him.

Lorenzo self-consciously tugged at the collar of his shirt, praying he’d buttoned it high enough to cover the marks Francesco had left the night before. “No, I just forgot to set my alarm.”

“Please don’t let it happen again,” Lucrezia said. “You’re lucky Francesco is also running late.”

Lorenzo started at the name. “Francesco?”

“Yes, Francesco Pazzi. Jacopo Pazzi emailed this morning saying something came up at the last minute, so he’s sending his nephew instead.”

“I think it’s just a power move,” Giuliano said. “Making sure we know exactly how little respect he has for us, he doesn’t think it’s even worth his time to—”

The door opened, and Lucrezia’s assistant walked in with a man following behind her. Lucrezia stood to greet him. “You must be Francesco,” she said, holding her hand out for him to shake.

Lorenzo thought he was dead. He was really pretty sure he was dead, or dreaming, because there was no _way_ this was happening in real life. Fate couldn’t possibly be this cruel.

The man standing there was Francesco from the night before. He was currently wearing a smart-looking suit rather than jeans and a T-shirt, but it was unmistakably him. Lorenzo would never forget that face, not in a million years.

Their eyes met, and the tiniest flicker of shock crossed Francesco’s face before he immediately slid his attention to Lucrezia and smiled politely. “Signora de Medici,” he said, shaking her hand. “Pleased to meet you. Sorry I’m late.”

“Oh, you’re not, Lorenzo only just got here too,” Lucrezia said, and Lorenzo didn’t know how Francesco managed to keep that polite smile on his face, because personally he wanted to die. “And please, call me Lucrezia. These are my sons, Lorenzo and Giuliano.”

Giuliano obligingly stood up to go shake Francesco’s hand, though he didn’t look happy about it. Lorenzo sat frozen in his seat, too shell-shocked to move. Lucrezia raised an eyebrow at him. “Lorenzo?” she said in a pointed _you’re-being-rude_ tone.

Lorenzo forced himself to stand and approach Francesco, his heart pounding so loud he was sure everybody could hear it. “F-Francesco,” he said. “It’s…nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Francesco held out his hand, looking utterly calm, not a single thing in his expression indicating that he and Lorenzo had been tangled together in bed less than twelve hours ago.

Lorenzo shook his hand, electricity shooting through him as they touched and memories from the night before returning to him _much_ too clearly. Lorenzo stared at him just a moment too long, silently begging him to give _some_ sort of acknowledgment, but Francesco merely looked back at him with frustrating inscrutableness.

“Are you okay?” Giuliano said under his breath as they all sat back down, too quietly for Lucrezia or Francesco to hear. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Fine,” said Lorenzo, who had never been less fine. “Just tired.”

“My uncle told me you wished to discuss interest rates?” Francesco said, taking a seat opposite Lorenzo and carefully ignoring him in favor of focusing on Lucrezia.

“That’s right,” Lucrezia said. “It’s recently come to our attention that the Pazzi bank has begun charging unfeasibly low interest rates.”

“Unfeasibly low? They are within the legal limit,” Francesco replied.

“Barely,” Giuliano muttered.

“Be that as it may, your rates are far lower than those of the other banks in the area, and it’s having a negative impact on all of us,” Lucrezia said. “We are losing business faster than we can keep track of. Everyone wants to take out loans from the Pazzi bank instead.”

Francesco smiled, but there was no warmth in the gesture. “I fail to see why that is a concern of mine.”

“It’s not fair,” Lorenzo blurted out. “All the rest of the banks are charging more or less the same rates, you can’t just suddenly lower yours so drastically and undercut the rest of us.”

“Fair?” Francesco said. Lorenzo wanted to lunge across the table and kiss that stupid smirk off his face. “It’s business. Our bank does as we see fit, and so does yours. If you are worried about being unable to compete with us, the solution is simple. Lower your own rates.”

“You know that’s not possible, we would never be able to stay afloat,” Lucrezia said. “In fact, I’m astonished _you_ haven’t gone bankrupt yet, even with the increase in customers.”

“Well, the Pazzi bank is quite adept at handling its finances,” Francesco said, tone suggesting that the Medici bank was not.

Giuliano opened his mouth and, knowing he was probably about to call Francesco something uncomplimentary, Lorenzo hastily elbowed him. Giuliano turned to glare at him instead as Lucrezia began trying to convince Francesco to convince Jacopo to increase their rates again.

So the rest of the meeting went. Lorenzo watched his mother use every tactic of persuasion she knew, but Francesco simply would not budge. _Smug bastard,_ Lorenzo thought grumpily, hating his stupid beautiful face and his stupid beautiful lips that had worked such wonders on him the night before—

“Lorenzo?”

Lorenzo started and realized that Francesco had stood to leave and Lucrezia was looking expectantly at him. “Uh, thanks for your time, Francesco,” he said, hoping that was an appropriate response to whatever had been said.

“Likewise,” Francesco said. “It was nice meeting you.”

Lorenzo dearly wanted to say something along the lines of _don’t act like you weren’t moaning my name twelve hours ago_ but he managed to settle for, “You too.”

“I’m sorry we weren’t able to come to an agreement,” Lucrezia said, escorting him to the door.

“Next time, perhaps,” Francesco said, though he didn’t look at all sorry.

He left, and Lorenzo stared at the open door for a solid minute, still in shock. Finally he managed to tear his eyes away, and he saw Lucrezia and Giuliano sitting back down and looking like they were about to start a long Pazzi-related venting session. Lorenzo suddenly realized that if he wanted to talk to Francesco privately, this was his only chance. And it was slipping away by the second.

“I need coffee,” he said, moving for the door.

“Oh, get me some too, will you?” Giuliano said.

“Okay.”

Lorenzo raced to the elevators and jammed the down button, waiting impatiently as the elevator trundled up to his current floor. At last he made it to the lobby, and to his relief he saw Francesco just walking out the front door.

“Francesco!” he called, hurrying after him.

He managed to catch him right outside the building. “Lorenzo,” Francesco said. “Did I forget something in there?”

“What? No, I wanted to talk to you—”

“About interest rates? As I’ve told you, you’ll have to take up any further discussion with my uncle.”

“You _know_ that’s not what I want to talk to you about,” Lorenzo said impatiently. Francesco coolly raised an eyebrow. “Come _on,_ Francesco. Are you _seriously_ going to pretend we didn’t have sex last night?”

“Keep your voice down,” Francesco hissed, finally looking a little rattled as he glanced around to make sure they weren’t being overheard.

“Well?” Lorenzo said more quietly.

“Well what? There’s nothing to talk about,” Francesco said. “We were drunk—”

“We definitely weren’t.”

“—and we had sex once—”

“Twice.”

“—without knowing anything about each other,” Francesco finished, ignoring his interruptions. “It was a stupid mistake, and we’re going to forget about it and move on. And that’s all there is to it.”

Lorenzo stuffed his hands in his pockets, inexplicably hurt. “But I thought…”

“You thought what?”

“I thought you had a good time. I thought you…liked me,” Lorenzo said, sounding pathetic even to his own ears. _“I_ liked _you.”_

“You don’t know me,” Francesco said. “And I don’t know you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the bank.”

And he turned on his heel and strode off down the street, leaving Lorenzo gazing helplessly after him.

* * *

“So the Medici bank is struggling?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Francesco said. “They’re losing business lately and they can’t match our rates, yes, but I don’t know if they’re _struggling.”_

“Not yet, anyway,” Jacopo said with a satisfied smile.

“Uncle,” Francesco said after a moment, “why _did_ you send me in your place?”

“I wanted to see if you were up to the task. And you were,” Jacopo said. “I’m glad _one_ of you has a mind for the business. I won’t be around forever, so it’s important that you’re ready to take over when the time comes. And I think you will be.”

“Oh,” Francesco said, just barely suppressing a proud smile. He was so unaccustomed to hearing genuine praise from Jacopo. “Thank you.”

He stood to go, but just as his hand was on the doorknob, he found himself saying, “What do you know about Lorenzo de Medici?”

“Lorenzo de Medici?” Jacopo repeated. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, everyone says he’s going to take over the Medici bank soon. So I should probably know more about him,” Francesco said, trying to sound offhand.

“I don’t know very much myself. I’ve met him only a few times,” Jacopo said. “But he seems naïve. Foolish, like his father. It was his grandfather Cosimo who made the Medici bank a force to be reckoned with, but Piero mismanaged it for a generation and only in these past few years since his death has his wife been able to undo some of the damage. But she is no Cosimo, and neither is Lorenzo, I expect. I doubt we’ll have anything to worry about.”

Francesco digested this. “That’s…good news.” And indeed, as he remembered Lorenzo’s sad little _I thought you liked me,_ it was easy enough to believe that he was naïve and a fool.

So Francesco latched onto that thought, rather than the way his heart had twanged when Lorenzo had said the words.

* * *

“Bianca de Medici,” Francesco repeated. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Guglielmo said, looking nervous.

“You’ve been dating _Bianca de Medici_ for three years and never told me?”

“I’m really sorry, Francesco,” Guglielmo said. “I didn’t want Uncle finding out, for obvious reasons, and…I guess I didn’t want you to have to lie to him for me. But I should’ve told you. I understand if you’re mad at me.”

Francesco sighed; he could never truly be mad at his brother. “I’m not _mad,_ just…surprised,” he said diplomatically. “How did you even _meet_ anyway? Neither of you are involved in our banks.”

“We work at the same school, actually. She teaches music.”

“How often do music teachers cross paths with English teachers?”

Guglielmo smiled. “Often enough.”

Francesco shook his head. “And did you ever think that dating a Medici might not be the best idea?”

“Of course I did, but I can’t help how I feel. I’d do anything to be with her.”

“Would you give up your own family?” Francesco said. “Because Uncle will disown you when he finds out.”

“I know,” Guglielmo said, his smile fading. “And…I’m okay with that. Bianca’s worth it to me. As long as _you_ don’t disown me.”

“You know I would never,” Francesco said. “But you’re going to put me in the position of having to pick sides between you and him.”

He tried to sound matter-of-fact rather than anxious, but Guglielmo reached out to squeeze his shoulder anyway. “Do what you have to. I don’t want things to be tense between you two at the bank because of me,” he said. “Besides, I know you’re always on my side.”

Francesco gave him a small smile. “So, how serious is it with her?”

“Very,” Guglielmo said. “I want to marry her.”

“What?!”

“That’s why we realized we had to tell our families about our relationship,” he said sheepishly.

Francesco heaved another exasperated and weary sigh. Guglielmo really could be such an _idiot_ sometimes; Francesco often felt like _he_ was the older brother. “Well, assuming her family isn’t upset about being lied to for three years, I’m sure your marriage will be very happy,” he said rather sarcastically.

Guglielmo broke the news to Jacopo shortly afterwards. Francesco wasn’t around for that conversation, and indeed did his best to stay out of the matter altogether, but he _did_ see how furious Jacopo was for the next several days. He raged and stormed about how ungrateful Guglielmo was and declared that he was no longer a Pazzi, and Francesco just listened in uncomfortable silence, too much of a coward to stick up for his brother who wasn’t there to defend himself.

But one day a week later, Jacopo suddenly seemed no longer angry at all. “I’ve been thinking about your brother and the Medici girl,” he told Francesco after calling him into his office at the bank, “and I realized this could be exactly what we need.”

Francesco furrowed his brow, startled by this drastic change in attitude. “What do you mean?”

“Guglielmo’s useless to me now, but _you_ could use his relationship to get closer to the Medici yourself,” Jacopo said. “Befriend them. Get them to trust you. And then find out what they’re hiding. I know their bank is doing worse than they let on, we just need proof so that we can destroy them once and for all. Proof that _you_ can get for me.”

Francesco stared at him, trying to process what he was asking. Whatever else one might say about Jacopo, he certainly did know how to turn a previously undesirable situation to his advantage. Francesco was also eager to eliminate the Medici bank as a competitor—and to prove himself to his uncle—but he didn’t want to use Guglielmo to do it. He disliked the Medici, but he loved his brother more.

Then he remembered Lorenzo de Medici standing in front of him outside the Medici bank, looking at him with hurt and dashed hope in his eyes. _I thought you liked me. I liked you._ He remembered Lorenzo breathless and trembling under him, begging him, coming undone at his touch.

And Francesco realized that perhaps Guglielmo wasn’t the in he needed to access the Medici family’s secrets.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I think I can do that.”

Jacopo smiled. “Excellent,” he said. “I knew I could count on you.”

* * *

The party was in full swing when Lorenzo arrived. Bianca and Guglielmo had recently moved into a new apartment together and had invited some friends and family over for a “little get-together” that turned out to be not so little after all.

“You made it,” Bianca said, smiling and hugging Lorenzo when he finally found her.

“Of course I did,” he said. “I didn’t know so many people were going to be here.”

“Neither did I,” Guglielmo said wryly, though the look he gave Bianca was fond rather than actually annoyed.

Bianca just laughed. “The more the merrier!”

Lorenzo chatted with them for a few minutes before letting them go off to talk to some other guests. He found Giuliano on the other side of the room with Simonetta and Sandro Botticelli. “How are you all?” Lorenzo asked when he reached them.

“I’d be better if Bianca hadn’t just moved in with a Pazzi,” Giuliano grumbled.

“I think it’s romantic,” Simonetta said. “Star-crossed lovers defying an old family feud—”

“Like Romeo and Juliet,” Sandro said, nodding.

“Exactly.”

“Well, hopefully this one will have a happier ending,” Lorenzo said. “Cheer up, Giuliano, Guglielmo’s not so bad, is he? Mom doesn’t even have a problem with them dating. Anymore.” Lucrezia had been more than a little upset to learn that Bianca had hidden a boyfriend from them all for three years, but two months had passed since the revelation and the Medici had all made their peace with it. Mostly.

Lorenzo had been shocked, of course, but he’d surprised even himself by how not upset he’d been when Bianca confessed the truth to them. Probably because he couldn’t stop thinking of Francesco Pazzi, of his beautiful face, of that one incredible night they’d spent together…a night which Lorenzo would _definitely_ not want any of his family members to find out about. So he couldn’t exactly blame Bianca for wanting to hide her relationship with Guglielmo from them. He knew how she felt.

Well, not that _he_ was in a relationship with Francesco, obviously. Francesco had made it very clear that nothing further would happen between them, and Lorenzo hadn’t seen him since that morning. But he did cherish some hope that Francesco might be at this party—surely Guglielmo would have invited him—and so if Lorenzo had taken a little more care with his appearance while getting ready than he usually would’ve…well, that was no one’s business but his own.

“Lorenzo!”

Lorenzo turned and was startled but pleased to see Lucrezia Donati approaching. They exchanged a hug. “I didn’t realize you’d be here,” Lorenzo said.

“Bianca invited me,” she said. “We used to be quite close, you know.”

“Yes, I remember.” Lucrezia had been no stranger in the Medici home back when she and Lorenzo were dating, though that was a few years ago by now. But the end of the relationship had been fairly painless and they’d stayed friendly, so Lorenzo’s smile was genuine when he started asking her how she’d been and what was new with her.

Giuliano, Simonetta, and Sandro eventually wandered off, and Lorenzo was in the middle of telling Lucrezia about his family’s reaction when Bianca had told them about Guglielmo when he spotted Francesco Pazzi across the room. His stomach did a backflip and he stuttered to a halt in his story, throat going dry as he realized that Francesco was walking right towards him.

Lucrezia opened her mouth, presumably to ask what the hell was wrong with him, but then Francesco was standing beside them and saying, “Lorenzo.”

“Francesco,” Lorenzo said, willing himself not to pass out. How was he even more beautiful than the last time they’d seen each other? “It’s—it’s good to see you.”

To his surprise, Francesco smiled at him. “You too. I was hoping you’d be here.”

Lorenzo’s heart lifted. “You were?”

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you.”

He glanced awkwardly at Lucrezia, and Lorenzo hastily made introductions. “Nice to meet you, Francesco,” Lucrezia said. “But you’ll have to excuse me, I have to go find Bianca to thank her for inviting me.”

And she discreetly excused herself from the conversation, leaving Lorenzo and Francesco alone. “Can we talk somewhere private?” Francesco asked.

Lorenzo’s heart was lodged in his throat, but he managed to say, “Sure.”

Francesco wove his way through the crowd and Lorenzo followed. They ended up in the bedroom, shutting the door behind them. “I owe you an apology,” Francesco said without preamble.

“You do?”

“For how I acted after—after we slept together,” he said, a faint blush blooming on his cheeks. “I was caught off-guard when I realized who you really were. Obviously. So I freaked out and was rude to you, and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Lorenzo said. “I was pretty freaked out too, I get it.”

Francesco gave him another smile, and then they fell into silence for a moment. “So…is that all you wanted to talk about?” Lorenzo said.

Francesco shook his head. “There was something else,” he said. “I was wondering…I was wondering if maybe I could see you again sometime.”

Lorenzo inhaled slightly, his heart beating fast. “Like—like a date?”

“Yeah,” Francesco said, looking nervous. “If you wanted.”

“Yes,” Lorenzo blurted out, much too quickly. “I’d like that.”

“Really? You would?”

“I would. Very much,” Lorenzo said, tentatively smiling at him. “You know, I—I haven’t stopped thinking about you this whole time. I was _hoping_ you’d change your mind about us but…I didn’t think you actually would.”

For a moment Francesco looked guilty, like he still felt bad for snapping at Lorenzo two months ago. But then his face relaxed into a smile again. “Well, I did,” he said. “You were right, what you said that morning. I _did_ have a good time and I did like you. I _do_ like you.”

Lorenzo felt warm all over and his smile widened. He took a step closer and so did Francesco, and then Lorenzo was wrapping his arms around his waist and Francesco was cupping his face in his hands and leaning in and kissing him. Lorenzo kissed him back eagerly, closing his eyes and getting lost in the moment.

“Dinner next weekend?” Lorenzo asked between kisses. “Saturday, maybe?”

“It’s a date,” Francesco said, and he kissed him again.

It was a while before they made it back out to the party, both agreeing not to draw attention to whatever was going on between them just yet. Lorenzo felt that one Pazzi boyfriend (was Francesco even his boyfriend?) was enough for his family to handle for the moment, and he knew without Francesco even having to say so that Jacopo would be absolutely livid if he found out. Because Guglielmo was one thing, but Francesco, the nephew he was grooming to take over the Pazzi bank—that would be quite another.

And Lorenzo knew it would be quite another thing for _his_ family too. After all, Guglielmo didn’t even work for the Pazzi bank, so really there was nothing wrong with Bianca dating him. But for Lorenzo to date the man who was going to be the president of the Pazzi bank one day…he was sure his family would see that as a betrayal.

 _And isn’t it?_ said a small voice in his head which he chose to ignore.

Lorenzo and Francesco rejoined the crowd just in time, as Bianca and Guglielmo started calling for everyone’s attention a moment later. “First, we wanted to thank you all for coming,” Guglielmo said when everyone had quieted down.

“And we also wanted to tell you that this isn’t just a housewarming party,” Bianca said, beaming. And she held up her left hand, which had a ring shining on it that definitely hadn’t been there earlier. “It’s an engagement party!”

Lorenzo’s jaw dropped as the room filled with gasps and cheers and applause. He caught sight of his mother and Giuliano not far away; Giuliano looked equally gobsmacked, whereas Lucrezia was smiling. She, at least, must have been informed ahead of time. Guglielmo probably hadn’t wanted to offend her by neglecting to ask her blessing after he and Bianca had already neglected to tell her they were dating for three years.

Lorenzo turned to Francesco, who looked unsurprised. “Did you know about this?” he demanded as everyone resumed talking even more loudly and excitedly than before.

“Yeah, I helped him pick out the ring,” Francesco said. “He proposed yesterday, I thought Bianca would’ve told you already.”

“Nope. She just had to go and make it as dramatic as possible, I guess.”

Francesco laughed, and despite his words Lorenzo was smiling too as he saw the sheer joy on his sister’s face, Guglielmo’s arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist as people started coming up to congratulate them.

“So I guess this means you and I are going to be seeing even more of each other,” Lorenzo realized a moment later. “Now that our siblings are getting married.

“I guess so,” Francesco said.

His hand was hanging by his side, and Lorenzo moved an inch closer to brush his fingers against his without anyone noticing. “I’m glad,” he said.

Francesco glanced sideways at him, giving him a soft little smile. “Me too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**6 Months Later**

“Good morning,” Lorenzo said, planting little kisses on his collarbone.

Francesco smiled lazily. “Morning,” he said, his eyes still closed. When he opened them a minute later, he saw Lorenzo resting his chin on his chest and smiling up at him with such affection that Francesco felt momentarily short of breath.

Lorenzo moved to prop himself up on his forearms and bent his head down to kiss Francesco on the lips. Francesco kissed him back, savoring the familiarity of it, and reached up to run his fingers through his hair. Lorenzo deepened the kiss after a few content minutes, kissing him more urgently now and hooking his fingers in the waistband of his pajama pants.

Francesco smirked against his mouth. “I thought last night tired you out,” he murmured.

“So did I, but apparently I just can’t get enough of you,” Lorenzo said, also smiling as he started tugging Francesco’s pants off.

By the time they finally made it out of bed— _quite_ a while later—Francesco was starving, and he said so. “Well, lucky for you,” Lorenzo said as they went into the kitchen, “I ran down the street to get _these_ before you woke up.”

He produced two croissants with a flourish, and Francesco raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious? You went to get these, then came back and changed back into pajamas and got back in bed? Just so you could fuck me when I woke up and then have breakfast waiting?”

“Exactly,” Lorenzo confirmed, looking pleased with himself. “Am I the best boyfriend ever or what?”

Shaking his head and grinning, Francesco grabbed a croissant and took a big bite out of it. “You’re definitely up there,” he said with his mouth full of pastry.

As he watched Lorenzo eating his own croissant, licking the stray crumbs off his lips and smiling at Francesco whenever they caught each other’s eye, Francesco felt a wave of perfect happiness wash over him. They’d been dating for almost six months, and every day it was harder and harder to remember that Francesco was supposed to be using him for information. Every day, destroying the Medici bank seemed less and less important.

Not only less important, but flat-out _undesirable._ Because if the Medici bank collapsed, it would hurt Lorenzo. And Francesco couldn’t bear to see him sad, not when he looked so beautiful happy.

“What are you thinking?” Lorenzo asked.

“Nothing,” Francesco said, trying to smile as that familiar guilt twisted in his stomach. “Just that I’m happy.”

“Oh. Me too,” Lorenzo said, gazing adoringly at him. “You make me happy. I…I love you, Francesco.”

Francesco’s heart stopped, then started beating again twice as fast as normal. “You—you _love_ me?”

Lorenzo smiled that beautiful smile of his. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

“I…” Francesco ached to say _I love you too_ , but the words stuck in his throat. He had no right to love Lorenzo when their whole relationship was built on a lie, when Francesco had been deceiving him the entire time. He had no right to _be_ loved by Lorenzo. He didn’t deserve it.

Lorenzo was everything that was good and kind in this world, and Francesco was the opposite of all of that.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Lorenzo said, coming over to wrap his arms around him and kiss his cheek, his jawbone, the corner of his mouth. “I just wanted you to know how _I_ feel.”

Francesco tilted his head to kiss him properly, willing away the tears he felt burning in his eyes. He didn’t deserve Lorenzo’s love, but he had it. And he would be a fool not to cherish it.

But they were interrupted by Lorenzo’s phone ringing, and Francesco cleaned up the remains of their breakfast while he answered. Lorenzo was silent as he listened, and when Francesco glanced over at him he saw that his expression had grown serious. “All right,” he said finally. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Everything okay?” Francesco asked as he hung up.

Lorenzo sighed. “Work stuff,” he said. “My mom wants me to come to the bank.”

“But it’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lorenzo said glumly. “There’s just…there’s been some things going on lately.”

Indeed, Francesco had increasingly begun to share Jacopo’s opinion that the Medici bank was having serious problems; this wasn’t the first time Lorenzo had gotten a bank-related phonecall that made him get all quiet and worried. And now was the perfect opportunity for Francesco to ask for details, to find out something to report back to Jacopo.

But he just nodded and said, “Well, I’ll see you later, then.”

“I’m sorry,” Lorenzo said. “I know we were going to spend the day together—”

“It’s all right. Tomorrow?”

“Definitely.”

Lorenzo got dressed quickly and kissed Francesco on the cheek before hurrying out the door. Francesco dressed too and was about to go back to his own apartment, figuring there was no point in hanging around Lorenzo’s when he wasn’t there. But when he opened the door to leave, he nearly bumped into a woman standing on the other side.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, but then he realized she looked familiar.

She seemed to recognize him too. “Francesco Pazzi, right?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name?”

“Lucrezia Donati, we met at your brother and Bianca’s engagement party.”

“Oh, right,” Francesco said. “Hi.”

Lucrezia looked curiously at him. “What are you doing in Lorenzo’s apartment?"

Francesco swallowed, nervous. Their relationship wasn’t necessarily _secret_ —they’d gone on dates out in public, they weren’t exactly hiding—but still, none of their friends and family actually knew they were dating. And neither of them had ever suggested changing that, both silently agreeing it would make things more complicated than they needed to be.

“Um…” he said intelligently.

Lucrezia gasped. “Oh my God, are you dating?”

Francesco felt an incriminating blush spread across his cheeks. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “But we haven’t really told anyone yet…”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she said, grinning. “Is Lorenzo here?”

“No, he just left to go to the bank.”

He expected Lucrezia to remark that it was a Saturday, but she only nodded knowingly. “Oh, I remember he was always doing that when we were together. It drove me crazy, but I guess you must be more understanding about that sort of thing since your family runs a bank too.”

Francesco went cold all over. “When you were together?”

“Yeah, we dated for a few years,” Lucrezia said. “Didn’t he tell you?”

In his mind’s eye he was walking into the party again, seeing Lorenzo on the other side of the room smiling at this beautiful woman he was talking to, laughing at something she said and touching her arm…He forced a smile. “Yes, of course,” he lied. “I’m sorry, I just forgot for a second. It was a while ago that he mentioned it to me. I can tell him you dropped by, what did you want to talk to him about?”

“I came to pick up a book he promised to lend to me last week,” she said.

They still spoke? Often, it sounded like. Francesco’s smile was frozen on his face. “What book was it?” he asked. “I can go grab it for you—”

“Oh, I doubt you’ll be able to find it, his bookshelves are a mess,” Lucrezia said with a laugh. They were, but how would _she_ know that? “I’ll just come back another time. It was nice to see you again, Francesco.”

“You too.”

She left, and Francesco waited a few minutes for her to be gone before leaving too and going home, his happiness from earlier now vanished.

He didn’t mention Lucrezia’s visit to Lorenzo when they were hanging out the next day, and he did his best to act normal. Fortunately, Lorenzo didn’t seem to notice that something was bothering him.

But eventually Francesco noticed that something was clearly bothering _Lorenzo._ He was quieter than usual, a strained expression crossing his face whenever he thought Francesco wasn’t looking. In his gut Francesco knew it had to be something bank-related, something to do with why his mother had called him in the day before.

It wasn’t until they were lying in bed that night that Francesco broached the subject. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the worry lines on Lorenzo’s forehead.

Lorenzo sighed. “Nothing.”

“Come on. You’ve been off all day, I know there’s something,” Francesco said. “Tell me, maybe I can help.”

“I doubt it, but I appreciate the offer,” Lorenzo said with a wry smile. But it faded just as quickly. “To be honest…things are bad at the bank right now. Really bad.”

Francesco went very still, Jacopo’s words from months ago echoing again in his head. _I know their bank is doing worse than they let on, we just need proof so that we can destroy them once and for all. Proof that you can get for me._ “What do you mean by ‘really bad’?” he asked, trying to make his voice come out steady.

“We’re on the verge of bankruptcy,” Lorenzo whispered. “We can’t afford to lose any more clients than we already have. If—if we went bankrupt, I—I don’t know what we’d do. I don’t know what my _family_ would do, this bank is our whole livelihood…”

Francesco soothingly traced circles on his arm, but his own heart was pounding. “I’m sure that won’t happen,” he said.

“It would really help if you’d raise your interest rates,” Lorenzo said with a humorless laugh.

Francesco smiled faintly, but it was a reflexive gesture rather than a sincere one. “You know I won’t be able to get my uncle to budge on that.”

“Yeah, I know. Thought it was worth a try.”

“You’ll find a solution on your own,” Francesco said. “I know it.”

Lorenzo’s expression relaxed and he snuggled closer against him. “You’re right, as always. It’ll all work out,” he said. He rested his head contentedly on Francesco’s chest. “I love you.”

Francesco said nothing in reply, his hand absentmindedly playing with Lorenzo’s hair. Lorenzo drifted off to sleep a few minutes later, but Francesco was wide awake, his mind miles away. On the other side of the city, in Jacopo’s office at the Pazzi bank.

This was exactly the information they needed to eliminate the Medici bank once and for all and take their place as the leading bank in Florence, if not all of Tuscany. All they’d have to do was start spreading around that the Medici bank was on the verge of bankruptcy, and what clients they did still have would panic and withdraw all their money, and then the bank would totally collapse. Leaving the way clear for the Pazzi bank to reap the rewards.

And it would be Francesco who had done it. Francesco who was responsible for the biggest success in the history of the Pazzi bank. He could almost picture the look of pride on Jacopo’s face, the approval he’d craved for his entire life but had always fallen short of.

Lorenzo shifted in his sleep, and Francesco glanced down at him, his heart twisting. He could also picture the hurt and betrayal on Lorenzo’s face when he realized what Francesco had done. How could Francesco sacrifice their relationship for personal gain? Yes, initially he’d wanted to get closer to Lorenzo to dig up dirt on the bank, but now…he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hurt him like that.

Family first. That was what Jacopo had always drilled into him. But wasn’t Lorenzo almost like family too now?

Weeks passed, and Francesco kept the information to himself. Lorenzo was growing increasingly stressed, but Francesco stopped asking him about the bank. It was like he didn’t want to know more details, like he didn’t trust himself not to go running to Jacopo with them.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Jacopo said one evening when he caught Francesco just before he was about to leave work for the day. “You seem to be quite close with Lorenzo de Medici these days.”

Francesco went on high alert. “Yes,” he said. Jacopo was well aware Francesco had struck up a friendship with Lorenzo for the purpose of getting information about the bank, but he didn’t know how far beyond friendship things had gone. And Francesco had a feeling he would not appreciate the fact that he’d been sleeping with Lorenzo for six months, even if it was ostensibly for a good cause.

“Have you found anything out about the Medici bank?” Jacopo asked. “He seems to put a great deal of trust in you, I wondered if he’d begun confiding these sorts of things in you.”

Francesco swallowed. “I haven’t seen much of him lately,” he said evasively. “He’s been busy.”

“Hmm, well, I’m not surprised,” Jacopo mused. “New relationships are always distracting.”

Francesco’s stomach lurched. “New—new relationships?”

“Why, yes. Just the other day I saw him out with that woman—what’s her name, dark hair, very beautiful—”

Francesco felt like the air was being squeezed out of his lungs. “Lucrezia Donati?” he managed.

“Yes, that’s the one,” Jacopo said. “I saw them at a café together, they seemed quite intimate…I’m surprised Lorenzo hasn’t mentioned her to you. Didn’t you say you were close?”

Francesco shook his head, unable to utter a word. Was this why Lorenzo had never told him that he used to date Lucrezia? Because he was _still_ dating her and didn’t want Francesco to find out? But Lucrezia hadn’t reacted negatively when Francesco had said he was dating Lorenzo…unless that was all an act. Maybe she’d already known they were dating. Maybe every night that Lorenzo wasn’t with him, he was with her, tangled in bed together with her, laughing at Francesco with her.

Laughing at what an idiot he was to think that someone like Lorenzo de Medici could actually love him.

“…wouldn’t be surprised if we heard wedding bells in the near future,” Jacopo was saying.

“What do you mean?” Francesco said rather sharply.

“Well, her family has money and connections, which the Medici bank seems to be in need of,” Jacopo said. “But of course, appearances can be deceiving. Perhaps they aren’t as close as they seem, and perhaps the bank isn’t doing as badly as it seems…”

Of course someone like Lorenzo would marry someone like Lucrezia. How could Francesco have believed that Lorenzo felt serious about their relationship? They’d been dating six months and Lorenzo hadn’t even told his family about him. Because he was ashamed of him. But there was no reason to be ashamed of Lucrezia Donati. She was perfect.

Lorenzo’s family wouldn’t hate him for dating _her._

Francesco’s fingernails were digging into his palms, his throat tight and his eyes stinging. How stupid was he? He’d spent six months lying to Lorenzo, how could it not have occurred to him that Lorenzo might have been doing the same thing? Had it _all_ been a lie? All the nights in bed together, all the mornings waking up in each other’s arms. All the laughter, all the happiness, all the love.

Lorenzo said he loved him. But Francesco should have known it wasn’t true. People like Lorenzo didn’t love people like him.

“Francesco?” Jacopo said, drawing him out of his own head. “Are you all right?”

“The Medici bank is on the verge of bankruptcy,” Francesco blurted out.

Jacopo paused. “It is?”

“Lorenzo told me,” Francesco said, jealousy and anger and hurt and guilt and shame churning in his stomach. “He said if they lose any more clients they’re done for.”

Jacopo leaned forward, a gleam of triumph in his eyes. “Are you absolutely certain about this?”

Francesco nodded, torn between satisfaction and self-loathing. “Yes. Lorenzo wouldn’t have lied, he trusts me.” _And I trusted him._

Jacopo stood and moved out from behind his desk, coming over to Francesco and clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve done well, Francesco,” he said, smiling as he led him out of his office. “It’s late, you go on home while I make a few phone calls. This time tomorrow, the Pazzi bank will have accomplished everything your grandfather dreamed of. All thanks to you.”

Francesco walked home alone. All he’d ever wanted was for Jacopo to be proud of him, yet it didn’t feel as he’d expected. It felt…hollow. Francesco felt sick inside, ugly, his conscience telling him over and over that he’d just done an awful thing.

But it was what Lorenzo deserved, Francesco stubbornly argued back. Lorenzo was cheating on him with Lucrezia Donati. Lorenzo had betrayed him, so it was only fitting that he be betrayed in turn.

If that was really the case, then why did Francesco feel so disgusted with himself?

* * *

Lorenzo woke up and checked his phone, frowning when he saw he still didn’t have any messages from Francesco. He’d texted him the night before asking if he wanted to have dinner on Friday, and Lorenzo could see that he’d read the message, but he hadn’t responded.

Was Francesco mad at him? Lorenzo couldn’t think of anything he’d done recently to upset him…He took a breath, telling himself to calm down. Francesco had probably opened the message but gotten distracted before he could answer, and then he’d accidentally forgotten about it. Lorenzo texted him again, telling himself he’d surely answer this one, and put his phone aside as he started getting ready for work.

When Lorenzo arrived at the bank, he was startled to see a crowd of people at the door waiting for it to open. They were all talking loudly together, looks of panic on their faces.

And they started shouting once they caught sight of him. “Is it true? You’re bankrupt?”

“Give us our money!”

“How long were you going to hide this from us?”

Lorenzo managed to extricate himself from the crowd and get inside the bank without letting any of them in. He slammed the door behind him and caught his breath, panic rising. “What the hell is going on?” he said.

The employees were huddled in an anxious knot talking to Giuliano and Lucrezia, who strode over to Lorenzo and handed him a newspaper. Lorenzo took it from her, eyes widening in horror when he saw the front-page headline. _Medici Bank Near Bankruptcy._

“What? But—” he spluttered. “How—?”

“You two, my office,” Lucrezia ordered him and Giuliano, and she began assigning the other employees various crisis-management tasks as Lorenzo and Giuliano went into her office.

She arrived a few minutes later and shut the door behind her. “Who did you tell?” she said without preamble.

“Tell?” Giuliano said.

“No one but the three of us knew just how bad things are,” Lucrezia said. “One of you must have told someone.”

“Are you seriously blaming _us?”_ Giuliano demanded.

Lucrezia closed her eyes for a second, visibly praying for patience. “I’m not _blaming_ anyone. I just want to know how this could have happened.”

Lorenzo felt like he was listening from the end of a long tunnel. All he could think of was lying in Francesco’s arms that night, weeks ago, telling him they were almost bankrupt. His chest felt tight, like there wasn’t enough air in the room. Surely this couldn’t be Francesco’s doing. He wouldn’t hurt Lorenzo like this, not on purpose. It must have been a mistake, or maybe it wasn’t him after all. Maybe Giuliano had gotten drunk and blabbed to somebody one night.

“—never told _anyone,”_ Giuliano was saying emphatically.

They both looked to Lorenzo, and he cleared his throat. “Neither did I,” he lied.

“The Pazzi are behind this, they have to be,” Giuliano said. “I bet it was Guglielmo, I _knew_ Bianca dating him was a bad idea—”

“Bianca didn’t even know the full extent of the situation, how would Guglielmo have found out?” Lucrezia said. She sighed. “There’s no use pointing fingers until we have more information. For now, let’s just figure out how we’re going to deal with this.”

It was the longest and worst day of Lorenzo’s life. Lucrezia and Giuliano went around and around in circles trying to come up with a solution, and Lorenzo sat there quietly, feeling nauseous and praying Francesco would text him back.

He never did.

By the time Lucrezia finally told him and Giuliano to go home, hours after the rest of the employees had clocked out for the evening, Lorenzo knew. He knew Francesco had done this. He knew it hadn’t been an accident. What he didn’t know was _why._

So he left the bank and went straight to Francesco’s apartment, some part of him still hoping there was a reasonable explanation. Lorenzo knocked on the door and waited anxiously for a moment; he was filled with both relief and dread when Francesco opened it.

But dread took precedence when he saw the way Francesco’s mouth tightened into a thin line at the sight of him. “Lorenzo,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“You told everyone about the bank,” Lorenzo said. It wasn’t a question.

Francesco folded his arms. “And how is Lucrezia Donati these days?”

Lorenzo stared at him, bewildered. “What? What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you’d dated her for a few years?”

“I don’t know, I just forgot. It was a long time ago, it didn’t seem important—”

“You lied to me. You hid it from me. Because you’re still seeing her and you didn’t want me to find out,” Francesco said coldly.

 _“What?”_ Lorenzo spluttered. “That’s _not_ true, Francesco, we’re just friends—”

“My uncle says he saw you out on a date with her the other day.”

Lorenzo had to think a moment to figure out what Francesco could even be referring to. “We met for coffee a few days ago,” he realized. _“As friends.”_

“Sure,” Francesco said.

“I’m sorry I never told you she’s my ex, you’re right, I should have,” Lorenzo said. “But is that seriously what this is about? You screwed over not only me, but my entire family, all our employees, and all our clients, just because your uncle tricked you into thinking I’m still seeing Lucrezia?”

“I didn’t screw over your clients, I saved them,” Francesco retorted. “Now they can transfer their money to a bank that’s actually capable of looking after it—”

“I would’ve fixed it!” Lorenzo cried. “I would’ve fixed it, I would’ve found a solution, I would’ve gotten our bank back on its feet! You told me yourself that you believed I could do it!”

“I lied,” Francesco hissed. “I lied to you the whole time we were together.”

“What do you mean?” Lorenzo said, his voice shaking.

“I never cared about you. I was using you, the whole time. I only wanted to date you to get information out of you about your bank. And I succeeded,” Francesco said spitefully.

Lorenzo felt like he was going to be sick. He thought Francesco had betrayed him, but he hadn’t, because you couldn’t betray someone you’d never cared about in the first place. These past six months had been the happiest of Lorenzo’s life, and none of it was real. Not a single moment.

“I see,” he said, knowing he was about ten seconds away from crying and needing to get in the last word and leave before it happened. “I guess I’m an idiot, then. To think you could be trusted. To think you were different from your uncle.”

“I _am_ different from my uncle,” Francesco snapped.

“That’s right, you are. You’re even crueler than he is. At least Jacopo doesn’t pretend to love the people he’s manipulating.”

For a second Lorenzo thought he saw a flicker of emotion on Francesco’s face, but then that terrible coldness was back. “Get out,” Francesco said, his voice deadly quiet.

Lorenzo turned and stormed off without another word, his heart shattering into infinite pieces.

He didn’t go home. “Lorenzo?” his mother said when she answered his knock, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “What are you doing here? It’s late, I thought you’d gone home—”

“I know how it got out, about the bank,” he said.

Immediately Lucrezia was wide awake again, and she beckoned him inside and shut the door. Lorenzo glanced around his childhood home, trying to take some comfort in the familiarity of it. Bianca had been living on her own even before moving in with Guglielmo, Giuliano shared an apartment with Sandro, and Lorenzo had his own too. Lucrezia had been living in this house all alone since Piero’s death, and suddenly Lorenzo was struck by how _lonely_ she must be here, with only ghosts and memories for company.

“Well?” Lucrezia said. “What happened?”

Lorenzo sank down onto the sofa, unable to meet her gaze. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault,” he said. “I told Francesco Pazzi we were almost bankrupt.”

There was a long pause. “And why would you do that?”

Lorenzo put his head in his hands, tears finally leaking out of his eyes. “Because…I love him. And I thought he felt the same way,” he said in a small voice. “But I was wrong.”

He told her the whole story. How he and Francesco had slept together without realizing who the other person was. How Francesco had asked him out again at Bianca and Guglielmo’s engagement party. How they’d dated for six months. How they’d been happy. How it had all been a lie. How Francesco had been using him the whole time. How Lorenzo had fallen for it, had naively believed Francesco loved him back.

Lucrezia came to sit beside him as he was talking, and when he reached the end, she put her arm around his shoulders. Lorenzo finally looked up at her and saw she was watching him not with anger, but with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” he whispered. “I should never have trusted—”

Lucrezia hushed him and pulled him into a hug, and then Lorenzo finally broke down. He cried and cried and cried as she held him close and rubbed his back, kissing the top of his head and murmuring words of comfort. He cried like he was thirteen years old again, experiencing his first heartbreak. Lucrezia had hugged and kissed him that day too, when he’d come home from school in tears after seeing the girl he liked holding someone else’s hand. At the time he’d thought surely this was the most pain anyone could ever experience, had thought surely nothing could ever be worse than this.

If only.

“It’s all my fault,” Lorenzo said again when he could speak, though he was still sniffling.

“It isn’t,” Lucrezia said. “You couldn’t have known this would happen.”

“Why aren’t you mad at me? I destroyed our bank.”

“I may be your boss, but I’m also your mother. And I know a scolding isn’t what you need right now,” Lucrezia told him. “Besides, our bank was done for long before you even started working there. We should have just accepted it then, rather than spending years trying to save something that was already dead.”

“Isn’t there _something_ we can do?” Lorenzo said desperately.

She shook her head, looking so, so sad. “I don’t think so.”

They were quiet for a long time. “Mom?” Lorenzo said at last.

“Hmm?”

“Please don’t tell anyone. That it was Francesco,” he said. “I’m worried it might come between Bianca and Guglielmo if they knew…” Whose side would Guglielmo take, his brother’s or his fiancée’s? Lorenzo couldn’t bear to imagine the look on Bianca’s face if he picked Francesco.

And he couldn’t bear to imagine the look on Francesco’s face if Guglielmo picked Bianca. Even now, after everything Francesco had done to him, some stupid, soft part of him didn’t want to see him hurt, didn’t want to see him lose his brother.

Lucrezia nodded. “We’ll keep it between the two of us,” she promised.

“Thank you.” Lorenzo sighed. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

“You weren’t stupid. You were in love,” Lucrezia said gently. “And there’s no shame in that. I don’t blame you for this, Lorenzo, so please don’t blame yourself.”

But that didn’t make Lorenzo feel any better.


	3. Chapter 3

Francesco couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep. Every night he tossed and turned, trying not to think about the empty space next to him in bed. Every night Lorenzo haunted him. The way he always used to smile at Francesco like he was his entire world. The way he’d looked at him that night, the pain on his face.

Francesco didn’t know why he’d told Lorenzo he’d been using him the whole time, why he’d felt the need to hurt him any more than he already had. Maybe his pride wouldn’t let him admit that he _had_ loved Lorenzo too. Maybe he’d wanted to lash out, to hurt Lorenzo the way Lorenzo had hurt him.

Except Lorenzo _hadn’t_ hurt him. The more Francesco thought about it, the more certain he was that Jacopo had been lying and Lorenzo telling the truth. He wasn’t cheating on him with Lucrezia Donati, he _had_ genuinely loved him. The heartbreak in his eyes when he’d realized Francesco had betrayed him was proof enough of that.

After their confrontation, Francesco half expected to be bombarded by a horde of angry Medici, but nothing of the sort happened. On the contrary, none of them were treating him any differently, aside from Lorenzo, who was simply avoiding him. Well, when they’d come to meet with him and Jacopo to discuss transferring some of their clients to the Pazzi bank, he thought Lucrezia de Medici had looked at him more coldly than she used to, but Giuliano had been no ruder than usual. And Bianca and Guglielmo, while devastated about the Medici bank’s imminent collapse, seemed to have no idea that Francesco was the cause of it.

Why hadn’t Lorenzo told anyone? Why hadn’t he told everyone what Francesco had done? If their positions were reversed, Francesco would not have hesitated to make his betrayal known, to turn his own family against him (because Guglielmo _would_ turn against Francesco if he knew, which Francesco tried not to think about). Then again, Francesco thought bitterly, if their positions were reversed Lorenzo would never have betrayed him like this. Lorenzo was a far better person than him.

Francesco was doing his best not to think about all of this one evening at the end of the month when he was staying late at the bank to work on closing the books. But it was dull, repetitive work, so it was difficult _not_ to let his mind wander into painful territory.

Until he noticed something odd.

Frowning, Francesco leaned in closer to the computer and squinted at the cell his mouse was hovering over. He opened a few other spreadsheets to crosscheck the numbers, doing some calculations and double-checking the entries. Yes, that was definitely not the value that it should have been.

At first he thought he must’ve made a mistake somewhere without noticing, but he combed through the entire month’s accounts again, a third time, a fourth, and couldn’t find any errors. Then Francesco pulled up spreadsheets from last month, the month before that, the month before that…

The clock chimed midnight, and he was sitting there surrounded by spreadsheets and a cold, horrifying truth that he didn’t want to acknowledge. Francesco went through everything one last time, his heart racing. He felt sick. But numbers never lied. The ones staring him right in the face were no exception.

What was it Lucrezia de Medici had said, all those months ago when they were discussing the Pazzi bank’s low interest rates? _I’m astonished you haven’t gone bankrupt yet, even with the increase in customers._

Francesco should have been too, if he’d thought harder about it. If he’d looked at all the numbers more carefully, if he hadn’t blindly trusted Jacopo.

But now, he could see it clearly. He could see exactly how the Pazzi bank was able to stay afloat with such low interest rates. And not only stay afloat, but make a significant profit.

Jacopo was committing fraud.

Francesco put his head in his hands. He knew what he _should_ do with this information. But was he strong enough? Was he brave enough?

 _I’m not my uncle,_ he’d insisted to Lorenzo that night. Well, now was his chance to prove it.

* * *

“You’ll never believe it!” Giuliano crowed, bursting into the office with a newspaper clutched in his hand.

Lorenzo and Lucrezia had been discussing the final steps of shutting the bank down for good, but they broke off at the interruption. “Believe what?” Lucrezia said.

Giuliano seemed too excited to speak, so he simply shoved the newspaper at them. Lorenzo leaned over Lucrezia’s shoulder and read, _Jacopo Pazzi Accused of Fraud by Nephew._

He gasped. “Let me see that!” he said, snatching the paper out of Lucrezia’s hands and scanning the article frantically, half afraid he’d misread the headline. But there it was, clear as day. Francesco had brought forward evidence of fraud at the Pazzi bank, saying that Jacopo had been fudging numbers for years to increase their profits and drive competing banks out of business.

Lorenzo read the words over and over again as Giuliano and Lucrezia started talking excitedly about what this would mean for the Medici bank. Francesco had turned in his own bank, his own uncle, for no other reason than that it was the right thing to do. Well, perhaps he was hoping that if Jacopo got arrested _he’d_ be able to take over as the bank’s president—but a lot of good that would do him if the Pazzi bank was disgraced and had lost all its clients. No, there was no way Francesco could possibly benefit from this.

For the first time in a month, Lorenzo began to hope. That maybe the Francesco he’d fallen in love with _had_ been real. That maybe there _was_ a good person underneath all the years of Jacopo’s hatred and brainwashing.

“What do you think, Lorenzo?” Giuliano said.

Lorenzo finally looked up at them. “What? Sorry, I didn’t hear,” he said. He shook his head in disbelief. “I just—I can’t believe Francesco did this.”

“Neither can I,” Giuliano said. “There I was thinking he was just a second Jacopo, but maybe he’s got a conscience after all.”

“The Pazzi bank will be ruined,” Lorenzo said. “None of their clients will trust them anymore.”

“I’ll say,” Giuliano said happily. “Which means there’s room for _our_ bank to come back. We haven’t officially filed for bankruptcy yet, we’ve still got a chance.”

“You’re right,” Lucrezia said. “And if we get even half the clients from the Pazzi bank, it’ll be enough to save us. But I don’t see how any of them would trust _us_ either.”

Lorenzo narrowed his eyes, thinking hard. “I’ve got an idea,” he said suddenly. “But you’ll think it’s crazy.”

He told them. “Absolutely not,” Giuliano said, looking horrified. “You can’t be serious!”

But Lucrezia was considering it. “You know…that just might work,” she said slowly. “Do you think you can convince him?”

“I really don’t know,” Lorenzo said. “But I can at least try.”

Which was why, after a week of discussions with Lucrezia and Giuliano and a few of the other most senior employees, Lorenzo walked into the Pazzi bank. The atmosphere was very subdued. Jacopo hadn’t been officially convicted of anything yet, but everyone knew he was guilty and he’d stepped down as the bank’s president. The employees who’d helped him conceal the fraud had been fired, and the ones that remained looked like they were terrified they were going to lose their jobs any day now too.

And they probably were. Unless Lorenzo’s plan worked.

The receptionist pointed him to the door of the office that had once belonged to Jacopo, and he knocked. “Come in,” said Francesco, and Lorenzo’s heart ached at the sound of his voice.

An ache which only increased when he walked in and actually saw him for the first time in weeks. Francesco glanced up at him, his eyes widening in surprise.

Lorenzo studied him for a second. He looked like hell, unusually pale, dark shadows under his eyes, his hair sticking up at odd angles like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. Lorenzo felt a rush of sympathy. He knew exactly how he must be feeling right now, with everything his family had worked to build coming crashing down around him.

Except at least Francesco had chosen this, rather than someone else betraying him, making the choice for him. But, Lorenzo wondered, wasn’t that worse? As much as he blamed himself for confiding information about the Medici bank in Francesco, wouldn’t he feel worse if he himself had been the one to make that information public? How much must it have pained Francesco, making the choice to send his own uncle to prison and destroy his own bank in the process?

And at least Lorenzo had had Lucrezia and Giuliano with him this whole time, all three of them working together to make the difficult decisions about shutting the bank down. Francesco had to make those decisions alone. His parents were dead, his uncle about to go to prison, his brother a Medici in all but name. He didn’t have anybody anymore. And as Lorenzo gazed at him sitting at his new desk with his shoulders hunched and worry lines etched in his forehead, he looked so very, very lonely.

“What are you doing here?” Francesco said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“I have a proposition for you,” Lorenzo said, shutting the door and coming to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk.

“A proposition,” Francesco repeated.

“Your bank’s in deep trouble,” Lorenzo said bluntly.

“Thank you for the reminder.”

“And so is ours, as you well know,” he continued. “Unless we act fast and drastically, both banks will go under.”

Francesco looked like he was curious despite himself. “And you have a solution?”

“I do,” Lorenzo said. “I propose merging our banks.”

Francesco just stared at him. “What?”

“On our own, we’re both doomed. But together?” Lorenzo said. “Together, we have a chance. Yes, some of our respective clients are gone for good, but if our two banks pool our remaining clients as well as our money and resources, it’ll be enough to save us both.”

“To save us both, at the cost of losing our individual banks,” Francesco said.

“I prefer to think of it as creating a new bank,” Lorenzo said. “The Medici-Pazzi bank.”

“Pazzi-Medici.”

“We can debate that later,” Lorenzo said delicately. He leaned forward, gazing intensely at him. “Francesco, please. At least consider it. I know things between you and me are…complicated, on a personal level. But this isn’t about our personal relationship, it’s about our banks. We can help each other. It might be the only way.”

Francesco held his gaze for a second before dropping his eyes, staring down at his desk for a long time. Lorenzo waited. “I’ll think about it,” he said finally.

Lorenzo smiled, relieved and triumphant. “Good. Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”

He stood to go, and his hand was on the doorknob when Francesco said, “Lorenzo?”

Lorenzo paused. “Yes?”

“I…I’m sorry,” Francesco said rather stiffly. “For what I did.”

Lorenzo turned back to look at him. His expression was uncomfortable—Lorenzo knew how much he hated apologizing—but there was genuine remorse in it. “You were jealous of Lucrezia Donati,” Lorenzo said.

Francesco blinked at him. “What?”

“You told people about our bank because you thought I was cheating on you with her, and you were upset,” Lorenzo said. “Which means that you weren’t just using me. You _did_ care about me. Our relationship _did_ mean something to you.”

A series of emotions chased themselves across Francesco’s face as he struggled to maintain a neutral expression. “I…um…”

Lorenzo smiled again, wider this time, and bid him goodbye before heading out the door.

* * *

**6 Months Later**

Francesco surveyed his new office. It was smaller than the old one, but cozier. More welcoming. It didn’t take long to unpack and set up his personal belongings—he had exactly two, a picture of him and Guglielmo at his graduation from university and a picture of them as children with their parents before they’d died.

He was just about to get to work when a knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” he said.

The door opened to reveal Lorenzo, and Francesco’s heart did a little flip-flop. “Hey,” Lorenzo said, walking in and closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” Francesco said. “Do you need something?”

Lorenzo shrugged, wandering around the office and picking things up and setting them back down again. “I just wanted to see how you were settling in.”

“Fine. You?”

“I’ve already had to break up two arguments between Medici and Pazzi employees, but otherwise fine.”

Francesco couldn’t help but grin a little. “Old loyalties die hard, I guess.”

“Apparently,” Lorenzo said, chuckling. “It’ll be an adjustment, but I think they’ll get there. I think we all will.”

Francesco found himself looking at the stack of brand-new business cards on his desk. _Francesco Pazzi, Co-President, Medici-Pazzi Bank._ Giuliano had thrown such a fit about “Medici” going first in the name that Francesco had just rolled his eyes and given in rather than making a big thing about it. It was far from the last compromise he’d had to make, and the Medici had had to make their fair share of them too.

But here they were. One bank. And very nearly one family, as Bianca and Guglielmo’s wedding was the following weekend. Francesco glanced over at Lorenzo, wistfulness washing over him as he remembered how they’d talked, nearly a year ago now, of going to the wedding together. “Are you taking anyone to the wedding?” Francesco blurted out before he could think about it.

Lorenzo put a book back on the shelf and looked over at him, surprised. “No,” he said. “I don’t have anyone to take.”

“Oh.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“We did talk about going together once,” Lorenzo said casually. “Do you remember?”

“Yes,” Francesco said. “But there was really no point in that, since we’re both going anyway. It’s not like one of us would’ve needed the other to take them as a plus-one.”

Lorenzo gave a huff of laughter. “True enough.”

They were quiet for a while. Lorenzo was still perusing Francesco’s bookshelf, for whatever reason. Francesco wondered if he was in the habit of barging into people’s offices and going through all their possessions.

“This is mine,” Lorenzo said suddenly.

“What?”

He pointed at a certain book on the shelf. “I lent this to you to read,” he said.

“Oh. I forgot that was yours,” said Francesco, who had not forgotten even for a second. “You can take it back, I don’t need it.”

“Did you read it?”

“Um…yeah,” Francesco admitted.

“When?”

“Why do you care?”

“You never mentioned to me that you were reading it,” Lorenzo said. “So, you must have read it after we ended things.”

Francesco sighed and got up from his desk, then went over to the bookshelf, pulled Lorenzo’s book out, and shoved it into his hands. “Keep it. I didn’t even like it,” he lied.

“But you _did_ read it,” Lorenzo said.

“If there’s a point you’re trying to make, just get to it. I have things to do.”

“Fine, I will,” Lorenzo said. “You missed me.”

Francesco raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“That night, you claimed you’d never cared about me,” Lorenzo said. “But you were jealous of Lucrezia. You read a book I’d wanted you to read, after we were broken up and you had no reason to want to make me happy by reading it.”

Francesco swallowed with difficulty. “So?”

“I need to know if I ever meant _anything_ to you. Anything at all,” Lorenzo said softly. “Because I loved you, Francesco. I loved you so much. Even if it’s in the past now, please tell me I wasn’t the only one who felt something. Please.”

Francesco closed his eyes for a moment so he wouldn’t have to see that pleading look on Lorenzo’s face, but it was a mistake, as behind the darkness of his eyelids he was assaulted by memories of those six months they’d been together. Memories of how happy he’d been.

But he’d thrown it all away. And for what? Irrational and misplaced jealousy? A _very_ short-lived business success? The approval of a man now awaiting trial for criminal charges of fraud? It was the happiest Francesco had ever been, and he’d gone and fucked it up for no reason.

Despite himself, he felt a tear slipping down his cheek. But then Lorenzo was there, resting his hand on his face and gently brushing the tear away with his thumb. At last Francesco opened his eyes again and saw Lorenzo gazing at him with a poignant mix of sadness and hope.

“At first I was only using you. But as time passed, I—I did start to fall for you,” Francesco said, very quietly. “And I wasn’t going to tell my uncle about your bank problems, I’d decided to keep it to myself, but then he got in my head about you and Lucrezia and I snapped. Because I thought you didn’t actually love me, and I was hurt. I wanted to hurt you back.”

“I did love you. I promise you that,” Lorenzo said. “Did you love me?”

“Yes,” Francesco whispered.

Lorenzo reached up with his other hand too, cupping his face in both hands, the familiarity of his touch making Francesco ache with how much he’d missed it. “Do you still love me?” Lorenzo asked.

Francesco took a shaky breath, his heart pounding. Lorenzo’s gaze was intense, too intense, but Francesco couldn’t look away. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Because—because I don’t deserve you,” Francesco said in a rush, a lump forming in his throat. “After everything I did, I don’t deserve—”

“Deserve? Who cares about deserve?” Lorenzo said. “I can’t say if you deserve me or if I deserve you, all I know is that I still love you, Francesco, and I forgive you for what you did and I want to be with you. If you feel the same way. So, do you?”

Francesco was crying openly now, but he was overwhelmed with too many other emotions for embarrassment to be one of them. Was it too good to be true? Could it really be this easy? After how badly he’d hurt Lorenzo, Lorenzo was really this ready and willing to say _I forgive you, I still love you, can we be together?_

“Yes,” Francesco breathed. “Yes.”

And then Lorenzo was crushing his lips against his, kissing him fiercely, hungrily, like he was trying to make up for all the time they’d lost. Francesco kissed him back just as desperately. “I love you,” Lorenzo repeated after every kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Francesco said, his heart soaring. “And I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. It’s all in the past,” Lorenzo said. “Let’s just start over, okay? Clean slate.”

Francesco smiled. “I’d like that.”

Lorenzo smiled back and kissed him again, and Francesco sighed into his mouth when he bit down on his lower lip. Lorenzo moved down to kiss his neck and began loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, and Francesco started undoing his belt—

“Hey, Francesco— _whoa!”_

They jumped apart and saw Giuliano standing in the doorway, gaping at them. “Shut the door, would you?” Lorenzo said, fumbling to refasten his belt as Francesco buttoned his shirt back up with inhuman speed, feeling his face burning.

Giuliano hastily kicked the door shut before anyone else walked past and saw. “So _this_ is the real reason you wanted to merge banks,” he said, smirking.

“Shut up,” Lorenzo said. “What do you want?”

“Mom sent me to get both your signatures on this, and I had to go to Francesco first since you weren’t in your office and no one had seen you for quite some time.”

Still blushing, Francesco snatched the papers out of his hand and scanned through them before grabbing a pen from his desk and scrawling his signature across the bottom. Lorenzo did the same. Officially the two of them were the bank’s co-presidents; Lucrezia was staying on in an advisory-type role for now, but was eager to retire soon since the family business was finally in a stable position and Lorenzo was ready to fully take the reins.

“Is that all?” Francesco said, not quite able to look Giuliano in the eye.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said. “Francesco, are you _crying?_ Is Lorenzo really that bad a kisser?”

Lorenzo sighed in exasperation, and Francesco quickly wiped his eyes. “Get out or I’ll fire you,” he snapped.

Giuliano grinned. “You can’t do that without your co-president’s agreement.”

“And he has it,” Lorenzo said under his breath.

Giuliano put a hand over his heart. “My own brother,” he said dramatically. “Fine, I’m leaving. You two go ahead and get back to, uh, merging.”

Lorenzo groaned in annoyance and Francesco turned even redder as Giuliano walked out again, laughing at his own joke. “Sorry,” Lorenzo said. “He’s just…”

He trailed off, as if unable to find a word to describe Giuliano. “Oh, I know,” Francesco said dryly.

Lorenzo laughed and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him close. “Now, where were we?” he murmured, leaning in to kiss him again.

Francesco ducked away. “Did we not _just_ learn our lesson? I am _not_ having sex with you at work!”

“Just once? To say we did?”

“No!”

Lorenzo heaved a sigh. “Fine,” he said, pouting. “To make it up to me, will you be my date to our siblings’ wedding?”

Francesco smiled. And he realized that finally he had everything he wanted. A successful bank, a loyal family. A loving partner. Mere months ago, he never would have imagined it was possible to be this happy. Once before he’d had this kind of happiness and thought it too good to be true, had second-guessed it and thrown it all away.

He never wanted to make that mistake again.

So he leaned in and kissed Lorenzo on the nose. “I’ll think about it.”


End file.
